The Silent Luna: Rejected by the Blind Alpha

The sound of his pen scratching against the paper was louder than the thunder outside.

Beside me, Dante, the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack, reeked of a sickly, synthetic sweetness—a witch's hex perfume that clouded his mind and made him obsessed with another woman.

He tossed a folder onto my lap without even looking at me.

"File this with the Council tomorrow," he ordered, his eyes glazed over as he texted his mistress, Sofia. "It's just the logistics report."

He didn't know he had just signed our divorce papers.

Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes in the middle of a dark highway.

"Get out," he snarled, his eyes glowing a feral yellow. "Sofia is being attacked. I need the car. You're slowing me down."

I froze. "Dante, this is Rogue territory."

"Survive," he scoffed.

He forced me out of the safety of the SUV and sped away, leaving his Fated Mate standing in the freezing rain to save a mistress who was lying on a yacht.

My wolf didn't weep this time. She growled.

I looked at the signed document in my hand. He thought he was stripping my access to the treasury, but he had just legally set me free.

I didn't wait for him to return.

I took the papers, withdrew fifty million dollars from his account, and vanished to the West Coast.

When he finally clears the witch's fog from his mind and comes looking for his submissive wife, he won't find Elena the doormat.

He will face the White Wolf.

Chapter 1

Elena POV:

The sound of the Montblanc pen scratching against the paper was louder than the thunder rolling outside.

Rain lashed against the bulletproof windows of the black SUV, blurring the neon lights of the city into streaks of bloody red and bruised purple. I sat perfectly still, my hands folded in my lap, trying to make myself as small as possible.

Beside me, Dante Moretti, the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack, didn't even look at me. His attention was split between the stack of documents on the leather armrest and the glowing screen of his phone.

Ding.

A message from Sofia. I knew it was her. His heartbeat, usually a steady, terrifying drum, skipped a beat. The air in the car grew heavy, not just with his scent, but with something else-a cloying, synthetic sweetness radiating from his coat. It was a witch's hex-perfume, subtle enough to bypass a Wolf's nose but strong enough to cloud an Alpha's judgment. I'd smelled it on him for months, a fog that made him pliable to her whims.

He signed the final page with a flourish.

"Done," he said, his voice deep and rough, like gravel grinding together. His eyes were slightly glazed, the gold in his irises dull.

He tossed the folder onto my lap. It hit my thighs with a dull thud.

"File this with the Council tomorrow," he ordered, his eyes never leaving his phone as he typed a reply. "It